


Counting

by ThiefOfADHD



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Bulimia, Diabetes, Eating Disorders, Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Vomiting, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 13:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15908775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThiefOfADHD/pseuds/ThiefOfADHD
Summary: Anorexia and Bulimia are both very dangerous eating disorders, if you are suffering from either I suggest you do your best and get help immediately.





	Counting

**Author's Note:**

> For weight/height/age time stamps:
> 
> 12 years, 2 months  
> 5'4.5"  
> 135 lbs
> 
> 13 years  
> 5'4.875"  
> 123 lbs
> 
> 15 years, 10 months  
> 5'10.75"  
> 98 lbs
> 
> 17 years, 8 months  
> 5'11.25"  
> 94 lbs
> 
> 18 years, 8 months  
> 6'0.5"  
> 143 lbs

It started with his diagnosis when he was seven. Type one diabetes. He didn't mind it. So he had to get pricked with a needle on his fingers three to five times a day and take insulin shots into his stomach before every meal. He didn't mind it at all. Needles didn't scare Lance McClain.

The problem, however, was how he ate constantly. It wasn't anything bad, just a side effect of the diabetes. Yet… kids made fun of him. It sucked, sure, but he didn't mind. But, just in case, he tried not to eat as much around other kids.

When he got into middle school, however, his slightly chubby appearance was made fun of. He didn't think he was that chubby, but he didn't have muscles like other boys.

That night, Lance had stripped down and stepped on his mother’s scale.

135 pounds.

He pouted, shutting his eyes as he took a shower. He knew he'd have to lose weight, and soon. There was no way he was going to go through the school year and to his thirteenth birthday with everyone being called big.

Lance worked hard, running and swimming often as he carefully counted out all of his calories to avoid overeating. Sure, he refused most of the greasy foods his family made and went for more healthy foods. Yet, every night, he checked his weight and looked at himself in the mirror.

Eventually, his blood sugar checking went from five times to ten, his insulin shots were still before every time he ate - or when he would eat if he was fasting - but he didn't mind. He'd moved his insulin shots from his stomach - his gross, fat stomach - to his thighs - also gross and fat.

He was just- no matter what he did, he was still so damn fat. So, he decided to keep working on losing his weight. The only good thing that happened to him aside from losing twelve pounds by his thirteenth birthday was he had accepted to his dream school, the Galaxy Garrison.

But, even going there, he needed to work on losing weight and keeping up with his insulin and blood sugar. He had barely even noticed when he got worse, how he'd put a razor to his thighs instead of using his blood sugar pen to get his blood sugar.

* * *

Lance still worked hard. When school ended, he went home to his family. His sixteenth birthday was coming up shortly, and he couldn't wait to show his family how he'd been losing weight.

The only problem was the comments he got from his mother and sisters.

“Lance, you look really thin. Have you been eating well enough? Is your insulin making you sick?” His mother worried, and Lance had to wonder if she could tell how cold he was.

“I'm fine, mamá.” He promised, smiling at her. It was a lie. He was starving, he was freezing, he felt sick. If he hadn't been half laying on the couch, he was sure he'd be blacking out.

“Alright, if you're sure.  But, you should still eat something.” She admitted, getting up and getting him a plate of leftovers from the night before. Lance felt too sick to eat, too dizzy and too tired. Yet, he still took the plate.

He ate it. Then a second plate. Then dinner that was ready fifteen minutes later. Afterwards as everyone talked, he went to the bathroom and grabbed a spare toothbrush. He had to kneel down in front of the toilet to avoid making a mess.

The handle went into his mouth, went back-

He gagged, tears pricking as he shoved it a little further. He quickly pulled it out as he expelled what he had recently ate. Both plates of leftovers, his dinner, some green tea, black coffee, and his waters. He made sure to purge like this four more times to get everything out until his throat burned and the smell of vomit  had been taken over by the smell of stomach acid.

He cleaned the toothbrush off to make sure he could use it again in case he needed to purge again during the week- or just overall through summer. He shut his eyes, flushing everything away and getting a drink of water from the sink. When he relaxed, he got up and checked his weight.

100 pounds.

How'd he gain two pounds from traveling home!?! He purged!!! It digested- God why did he eat that!?! He shouldn't have eaten that! He shouldn't have!! He-

He sat on the floor, crying into his knees as he hugged himself. He was upset. He felt gigantic, heavy. He wanted to take it all back. Why'd he let his mother feed him? Why'd he eat that?! Why w _ hy _ **_w hy wHY!?!_ **

* * *

****It was fucking horrible. He couldn't get any lower than 94 pounds. No matter what he tried, it didn't work at all. It made him sick, why couldn't he get any lower!?! Hell, Pidge probably weighed less than him!!

He thought for a moment, getting an idea.

“Hunk! Y'know how Iverson said we needed to bond as a team?” He asked, smiling as he packed his pockets with his insulin needles.

Hunk hesitated. “Oh, God Lance. Don't you-”

He didn't bother listening, going to leave. “We'll sneak out! C'mon!” He smiled. He felt dizzy, he needed to go in public. Maybe binge, most likely purge.

* * *

Space. He was in space. He couldn't weigh himself in space. Count calories. He could only binge and purge. What if he gained all his weight?! Or- fuck, he was gonna get fat again!! He was- he just was!

He hadn't eaten in… fuck, he stopped tracking. He had been fighting, had been training, flirting with Allura. Hell, he was lucky he was busy trying to make sure he was constantly clean. At least he wasn't eating and getting fat.

He got up, leaving his room. He could eat something-

He saw black spots, had difficulty breathing. He pushed himself, walking down the hallway.

His vision blacked out, he tried to open his eyes but-

* * *

“Lance?”

He opened his eyes, grunting as he shut them again. He felt tired, weak. He couldn't open his eyes.

“Lance, open your mouth.”

He did as he was told, not knowing who was talking to him. When he felt a spoon go into his mouth, he shut his mouth and ate the goo that was with it.

Swallowing, he moved away from the spoon. But, he felt the spoon come back.

He opened his eyes enough to look at Hunk, who had moved Lance back into his room. He grunted, shifting as he looked over himself.

His thighs were bandaged up, his side had a small bandaid on it, and he was only in a thin tank top and boxers. He was thin, almost a skeleton at this rate.

“Lance, you need to eat.” Hunk warned, moving and giving Lance more food goo. He hated to eat it, but he did so to avoid Hunk’s worry. But… it was too late for that, huh?

Lance didn't notice the bowl had been emptied until he instead got a hug from Hunk instead of a spoonful of food.

“Lance, you're lucky I found you. You've been out for almost a whole week.” He whispered. “You're lucky Coran was able to get you insulin. You went into a diabetic coma, after all.”

Lance looked away, not bothering to say a word. Had he forgotten his insulin? Maybe it was from not eating.

“Lance, you need help.”

He didn't know if it was his own mind, or if Hunk was speaking. He can't die in space.

* * *

Home. They're finally home. Earth. He- fuck. Everything was amazing. But… there was still a war.

But he had to stay in the Garrison infirmity. They all had to. Space was hard after all.

He saw a scale, slowly getting up and going to it. He was alone for now, but… it wouldn't hurt, right?

Taking a deep breath and undressing, he looked at himself. He'd gained muscles, scars, he'd grown - but only slightly.

He shut his eyes, stepping on the scale. He looked down at the numbers hesitantly.

143 pounds.

It felt… different. He was lean, muscular. He ate regularly without feeling fat. He didn't count calories, and checking his weight was the first time in a year.

He felt… better. Normal.

Tears filled his eyes, and he got dressed. He was… finally happy.

And that would be good enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> [How I calculated Lance's bmi for this fanfic](https://www.cdc.gov/healthyweight/bmi/calculator.html)


End file.
